


Okay is Wonderful

by winterdaffodils (zhem1x5)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_creatures, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pre-Slash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/winterdaffodils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's always been lucky in magic, he just can't always see how. Sometimes alright is the most you can hope for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Title stolen from AVPM, because sometimes it really is.<br/>Written for creaturefest 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay is Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
> 
> Prompt: #33  
> Pairing: Harry/Draco  
> Creature: Vampire
> 
>  
> 
> N, I love you! Can never adore you enough.

"There seems to be nothing severely wrong with your...nephew, Mrs. Dursley," the doctor muttered, glancing up at Aunt Petunia for conformation. Her pinched expression must have been answer enough. "Though he does appear to be a bit anaemic, his iron count is surprisingly low for a growing boy."

"And the burns," Aunt Petunia asked almost inaudibly while Harry tried not to fidget or touch his bare skin. The blisters were fading at least, though the nearly violent pink tint it had taken on was as painful looking as ever.

The doctor shrugged and quirked an eyebrow as he looked over Harry's rather meagre chart. "Any increased exposure to the sun or change in medication," he asked as though they hadn't already covered that twice.

Harry shook his head though the question was directed solely to Aunt Petunia.

"Thank you for your time," Aunt Petunia said, rising with her purse strap already on her shoulder. The look she directed at Harry clearly blaming him and /his sort/ for the lack of reasonable explanation. "Not a word to your Uncle," she hissed as she escorted Harry out of the examination room.

 

"Harry, are you alright," Hermione asked, looking him over with an audible frown.

"Yeah, mate, only you're looking a bit..." Ron shrugged, gesturing vaguely to his face and arms.

Harry grimaced, casting a quick look over his pink skin. "I'm fine," he answered, ignoring how hot and tight his own flesh felt. "A bit too much sun over the hols."

 

Harry sighed and settled for rubbing his aching jaw because reaching into his mouth to rub his teeth and throbbing gums would only draw attention. Hermione was already watching him too closely, no doubt waiting for him to go around the twist. It was sixth year all over again, without his keeping a close eye on Malfoy.

He shook his head, refocusing on the charms essay Flitwick had set their first day back. Best not to draw any more notice than he had to.

 

"'arry?"

"I'm fine," Harry murmured, blinking carefully against the harsh light of the late afternoon sun. "Little tired," he added when that didn't seem to convince Hagrid.

"Y'sure," Hagrid asked again, eying Harry closely.

"Yeah," Harry answered, glancing around at the rest of the class, all staring at him with various expressions of 'oh Merlin, what now'. "I'm fine," he said again, louder and with more feeling for their benefit.

"Right," Hagrid agreed, eying at him hard before returning to the lesson.

 

“Have a piece of Drooble's, Harry,” Neville asked, offering the open package.

“No, thanks, Neville. Have my own.” Harry held up his Muggle chewing gum as proof, chewing deliberately as it worked out the ache in his gums.

“That's horrible for your teeth, Harry,” Hermione muttered as she settled on the sofa beside him. “At least Drooble's doesn't consist of mostly sugar and destroy your teeth.”

Harry shrugged, chewing harder with his front teeth.

“It's getting worse, isn't it,” she whispered, leaning closer to keep their conversation private.

“It's fine,” Harry muttered, shrugging again and focusing on his textbook.

“It's normal, Harry,” she tried again. “The stress of the last few years, your whole life even...”

“It's fine,” Harry cut in, closing his book and standing up. “Good night.” 

 

“Harry, are you sure you're feeling alright,” Hermione asked, watching Harry pick apart his breakfast without much actual interest in eating it.

Harry shrugged, stirring through his eggs disinterestedly. “Just a bit tired,” he murmured, “haven't been sleeping all that well.”

“Nightmares,” Hermione asked decidedly, her expression knowing when Harry finally glanced up from the grotesque mash of food on his plate.

“Actually, no,” he answered, more sharply than he had intended, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He really didn't want to tell her what sorts of dreams he had been having.

It must have shown on his face because Hermione blushed in return and took a hasty gulp of her water.

“Just be sure and drink your pumpkin juice, Harry,” she said quietly. “You may be a tad anaemic and the vitamin C will help your body absorb iron. If you ever eat, that is,” she finished with a pointed glance at his nearly full plate.

“I'm not hungry,” Harry answered, pushing his plate away and rising from his seat.

 

"Are you quite well, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall asked softly, her hand straying out as if to check his temperature though she seemed to realise what she was doing before completing the gesture.

"I'm fine," Harry assured her, swiping a gentle hand over the tight skin of his face. "A bit too much sun today, I think."

She pursed her lips, staring down at him as though searching for the lie in his words. "I didn't think you had any classes that required being out of doors today."

Harry flushed, skin stinging. "I don't," he admitted, looking down at his hands. "Just feeling a little off today."

"You've been 'off' for a few days now, haven't you," she asked, conjuring a chair and sitting down beside him.

"All summer," he answered guiltily.

"Have you been to see a Muggle doctor or Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, ma'am, not Madam Pomfrey. A doctor said I just seemed a bit anaemic. I thought it would clear up on its own."

She nodded thoughtfully, looking him over. "If symptoms persist, worsen, or if you even feel the slightest bit different, report it to me and go to the infirmary immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry whispered, nodding.

 

"Y-you quit Quidditch," Ron sputtered, his cheeks going so red they clashed with his hair and his hands alternating between falling open in dismay and clenching in impotent anger. "But you love Quidditch," he muttered, looking at Harry as though everything he had ever known about him had been proven a lie.

"Yeah, I do, mate," Harry answered just as helplessly, his own hands clenched at his sides. "But NEWTs are this year, I have to spend more time revising."

"Bollocks," Ron snapped. "You're never in the library when you say you will be, always with some excuse. The loo, the kitchens, forgot your quill. You're sick and don't want to admit it. I've seen you after practices, skin so red you can barely move."

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry shouted, turning and stalking back to the tower.

 

Harry tossed another useless book on top of the ever growing discarded pile. He wasn't sick, this probably wasn't stress related though he fully expected the stress of it to make him sick before the end of the term.

He was going to have to go to Pomfrey soon. This was getting out of hand. The burning itch in his throat, the painful thirst, there had to be something that he could do.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair and down his face, blinking rapidly. He had been at this for hours, days really, and it still wasn't getting him anywhere.

Hermione would have been so much better at this. She had an affinity for books that bordered on the supernatural, which was just what he needed but Harry couldn't bring himself to ask her, couldn't stand to see the sad light in her eyes when she told him that maybe it was time to see a mind healer. That that much stress was bound to effect his...everything.

She wasn't wrong but Harry knew she wasn't completely right either. There was more to this, whatever it was, than just a little leftover stress. This was something else entirely and Harry had no idea where to even begin. He didn't even rightly know what the symptoms of the problem were, what was real and what really was just a holdover from the last 17 years of his life.

He wandered the Restricted Section unrestricted, waiting for inspiration to strike and debating just going to Madame Pomfrey for something that would fix him.

He passed through magical creatures on his way to magical medicine.

Magical Maladies of the Highlands, Lowlands, and All Those Places Inbetween Where No One Ever Visits— Harry was fairly certain that meant the Muggle world—seemed like a relatively good place to start his newest round of researching.

 

"Just ignore him, Harry," Hermione hissed when she saw Malfoy coming down the hall toward them.

Harry didn't answer, staring when he caught Malfoy's eyes.

"I don't have to," he said finally, oddly perturbed when Malfoy walked past without a word or another look.

"He's certainly been quiet this year," Hermione observed, turning to watch Malfoy go.

"Yeah," Harry answered absently, shifting his books into his other arm.

"Oh, Harry, you're not going to start that up again," she demanded, stopping in the middle of the hall and hauling him back a step too. Students glared as they edged past them but Hermione didn't notice or didn't care. "He's not done anything all term, why can't you let this go?"

"I didn't say anything," Harry defended, his voice cracking in his vehemence.

"Harry...."

 

The dreams started with water. Sparkling under the bright flicker of torches, small ripples that spread from some unknown source at the center, Harry could have sat and watched those little waves forever, truly believed that the meaning of life was contained in that water, though he had no idea why it should leave him so hard in the morning.

The water was muddy brown the further it stretched away from him, cloudy and the waves were larger, choppy as though caught in a tempest. Harry though it lovely to watch. The erection he woke with was almost familiar even if for no apparent reason than that he was young.

The brown clouds darkened, brightened to a very pretty red, and Harry thought he could almost see the cause of the water's distress. His teeth and gums ached as though he was grinding them in his sleep, the way they did when he was cutting new teeth. It hurt to clench them shut against the breathy sounds that escaped him when he tried to hurry through his wank.

The water really was lovely, its clouds of red and brown billowing, spreading from a thrashing source, droplets splashing, causing little pockets of red and brown all their own. They left a trail, little rosettes, easy to follow with eyes that were desperate to see the end. He strained to see, though he was shocked and sorry. Draco Malfoy twisted and cried, blood seeping through his shirt, supplying the clouds Harry had been so happy to watch.

He always woke, soft and sticky in his pants, come drying, and so thirsty he thought he might be dying.

 

“Mate?”

“Harry?”

“Um, Harry...”

“Harry!”

“What,” Harry snapped, dropping his fork and reaching for his pumpkin juice.

“It's not that we're not glad to see you clearly feeling better,” Hermione began gently, looking to Ron for support. “It's just that...” She gestured toward his place setting vaguely.

Harry looked down at his plate, and seeing nothing disturbing in the remains of his dinner, quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at Hermione.

She flushed. “It's just that it was nearly raw...”

“And you went at it like a starving wolf,” Ron added, his fork suspended between his own plate and his mouth, forgotten as he watched Harry.

“I'm just hungry,” Harry muttered, soaking up the meat juice with a bit of bread. If it was more bloody than it might have been, well, that was on behalf of the elves.

 

“D'you see Malfoy,” Ron asked with a smug grin.

Harry shook his head, rubbing his stomach with a grimace. They'd just come from lunch and he was starving despite not being able to stand the thought of eating only a few minutes before.

“Someone finally beat the piss outta the little tosser,” Ron continued, grinning like it was a treasured memory.

Harry nodded vaguely, staring anxiously at the students flooding the corridor. Their overwhelming presence was making him so nervous his stomach was cramping.

“Harry,” Ron asked softly, worry creeping into his tone and confirming that he'd been speaking to Hermione.

“I'm fine, a bit peckish is all,” Harry answered, hoping Ron would ignore the fact that they had just come from their mid-day meal which he hadn't touched.

“We can sneak down to the kitchens after Potions,” Ron said agreeably, always willing to eat just a bit more.

 

“Watch,” Ron hissed, snagging the hem of Harry's sleeve and pulling him to a stop before he could edge past the knot of people blocking most of the hallway.

“Huh,” Harry jerked around, gnawing self-consciously on a larger wad of chewing gum.

Ron pointed toward the center of the circle of students.

Harry watched, transfixed as the crowd seemed to shift, giving him a perfect view of Malfoy and his assailants. He stared in uncomfortable confusion at the blood dripping down Malfoy's pointy chin and knew in the seconds before it happened how Draco Malfoy would react to being cornered and surrounded by those only out for more.

Malfoy's pale face twisted, his lips pursed and blood everywhere, and then he spit.

Harry's stomach churned, his eyes seeming to zero in on every drop of that fine red mist. He grit his teeth and swallowed against the abrupt rush of saliva to his seemingly parched throat, the blood draining from his face and pooling somewhere much lower. His insides heaved and he staggered, bumping against Ron and nearly upsetting his balance as well.

“Harry? Alright there, mate,” Ron asked, giving Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and steering him away from the crowd. “You're looking a bit peaky.” He trailed off, following Harry's riveted gaze to the blood still dripping down Malfoy's chin. “Is it the blood,” he asked in a whisper, leaning close as though any weaknesses of Harry's should be kept the utmost secret.

Harry swallowed, nodding shakily and raising a trembling hand to swipe across his sweaty forehead.

“Not to worry, nothing to be ashamed of,” Ron murmured with a sympathetic grimace. “I get a bit squeamish sometimes too now. War,” he said as though that was the reason for everything.

Harry nodded. Because it was. “I'm not up to studying just now, think I'll go back to the tower.” He shot Ron a pleading look, hoping he would go on without him.

“I'll just tell Hermione you were a bit tired,” Ron agreed, shouldering his bag and taking a bracing breath. “To the library,” he enthused as though it were a grand adventure before grimacing again and trudging off, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

Harry knew he should have felt guilty for lying to Ron, would probably regret not telling either him or Hermione from the off and having done with it, but he had put them through enough for ten lifetimes' worth and this seemed a bit...personal.

He adjusted his persistent erection, glancing around the hallway quickly before throwing his Invisibility Cloak over his head and setting out for the library as well. Research was called for and he was more comfortable doing it on his own for the time being.

 

“Harry? Harry, wake up.”

“Why won't he move?”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Mmph, ug,” Harry moaned, shifting under his blanket even though it did indeed hurt.

“Dean, get Pomfrey; Seamus, you go get McGonagall.”

 

“I can't explain it,” Madam Pomfrey said softly, brushing incredibly gentle fingers over Harry's red and burning skin, noting his flinch and gasp with a frown that wasn't entirely professional. “And you say you've not been outside overmuch or spent much time in the sun at all?”

“No, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry answered dutifully. Again. He shifted carefully, the tightness of his skin painful even against the softness of the bed.

“No changes in medications?”

“Only the iron supplement the Muggle doctor advised and I've been taking it for months.”

“Your bed is positioned under the window in your dormitory, isn't it?” Her wand traced over his skin, cooling the lingering ache.

“Yes, but not much light comes through the hangings.”

“It appears enough does, you've gotten a sunburn from merely sleeping.” She smiled at him, amused, and Harry smiled back. “This isn't the first time you've suffered from too much exposure without actual exposure, is it?”

 

"Harry, are you sure you're alright," Hermione asked carefully, looking half like she expected him to snap at her.

Harry sighed, supposing he had had a bit of a temper lately, and tried to smile a bit. "Just a little...hungry," he finished, blushing when his stomach gave a strangely loud growl.

"We've just come from dinner," she pointed out. "And you said you weren't hungry. Didn't even touch your plate."

"It's fine, Hermione, I swear," Harry muttered, getting irritated despite himself. "I'm going for a walk," he snapped, hurrying away when she stood up as though to go with him.

 

"Awful long way from home, aren't you, Potty," Malfoy sneered, twirling his wand like a baton as he strolled down the dungeon corridor toward Harry. "Lions should tread more carefully about the snake pit."

"There's only one snake that ever gave me trouble, Malfoy, and Neville took its head."

Malfoy blanched, catching his wand in a firm grip and staring at Harry silently. "Whatever, Potter," he finally snarled, shoving past Harry.

Or he at least tried to. Harry caught him around the shoulders, his hands hard and unyielding as he pushed Malfoy back against the stone wall. His stomach ached as he stared at Malfoy's equally surprised expression, the heat where their bodies came together almost enough to make him back off in mortification.

"Malfoy, I," Harry shook his head, his body swaying a bit against the other boy's. "I don't," he tried again only to stop short, a pulse beating loud in his ear.

It took him a few moments to realize it was Malfoy's heartbeat he was listening to and not his own, drawing his eyes to the mad throb beneath Malfoy's jaw.

"What," he swallowed loudly, leaning forward to bury his face against that skin.

“Potter, what the fuck are you doing,” Malfoy hissed with obvious alarm.

“I don't know,” Harry murmured, pressing himself close to Malfoy, trapping him against the stone wall. “You just...” he shook his head, dragging his nose along the smooth column of Malfoy's neck. “You smell...” he moaned, unable to finish the thought as he breathed the other boy in.

“Potter,” Malfoy asked again, his voice breaking as though he were strangling.

“It's alright,” Harry breathed, pressing his face right against Malfoy's fragrant skin. “It's alright,” he promised, unable to resist a single taste.

Malfoy moaned, relaxing almost the second Harry's tongue took a quick swipe over his skin. His hands slid shakily over Harry's arms, settling in his hair when Harry did it again.

A third pass with only his tongue seemed more of a tease than Harry could stand, too little and too much, not what he needed. He latched onto Malfoy's throat with a muffled groan, opening his mouth against that tender skin and sucking gently.

The effect was immediate. 

Malfoy's fingers curled and clenched in Harry's hair, dragging him closer and holding his mouth tight against Malfoy's throat.

Harry moaned, his left hand sliding to cup the back of Malfoy's neck, holding him steady as he applied more suction, more tongue, more teeth.

Malfoy shuddered, his body going rigid against Harry's only to relax and then tense again. He sighed, tilting his head to the side, baring his throat and giving a tentative thrust of his hips.

Harry gripped his arse with his right hand, pushing harder in return and scrapping the ridges of his front teeth over Malfoy's skin.

"Fuck, fuck," Malfoy gasped, rocking harder against Harry, his fingers clenching in Harry's hair. "Bite me," he begged, voice nearly gone from the need threading through it.

Harry moaned, pressing his blunt teeth into Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy whined, shaking as his hips gave one more thrust and the acrid scent of come filled the space between them.

Harry moaned again, collapsing against Malfoy and pressing him harder into the wall, his breath as laboured as the other boy's and his cock strangely soft considering he hadn't come too.

He shifted, breathing in the scent of satisfaction and sweat warmed skin. His tongue darted out, unable to resist another taste, smiling a bit when Malfoy moaned and stirred beneath him.

"Merlin, Potter, not again," he hissed, hips twisting and hitching no matter his words.

"I think you could easily go again," Harry challenged, licking and sucking the mark he had already left behind, his cock giving a little throb at the thought and finally beginning to harden. "I could make you," he promised, rocking against Malfoy.

"Somehow I don't doubt that," Malfoy drawled, giving a tentative little thrust of his own.

Harry sucked harder, hips moving insistently, his cock so hard, his lips so tender he could almost taste blood. He moaned, opening his mouth wider against Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy slumped immediately, the hands that had been gripping at Harry tightly falling limply to his sides, and Harry moaned, pressing against him harder.

Malfoy's heartbeat was loud against his ear, under his hand, and in his mouth, the steady thump speeding up and slowing down as Malfoy seemed to twist against him. Harry swallowed against the thick rush of saliva in his mouth, feeling better than he had in months. He smiled against Malfoy's skin.

Harry pulled back carefully, withdrawing fangs he couldn't even remember growing let alone pressing into Malfoy's skin. The blood beading and sliding down his throat were proof enough though.

"Potter, what-" Malfoy gasped, shaking his head dizzily and slipping further down the wall.

"It's okay," Harry promised, not at all sure it was as the heavy rush of footsteps echoed down the corridor. "You're alright," he whispered, leaving Malfoy to crumble against the floor as he turned tail and ran back to his room.

 

"Didja hear 'bout Malfoy," Ron asked between bites of sausage that left Harry feeling vaguely nauseous to watch.

His heart speeding up and his eyes widening too much to be truly innocent, Harry's head jerked around to search the Slytherin table for that familiar blond head. It was not so suspiciously absent and Harry turned to his friend for confirmation of his worst fears.

"Got himself put in the hospital wing, didn't 'e," Seamus cut in, snagging the bowl of thick gravy.

Ron snorted something that sounded like 'finally' followed by 'what he deserves' as he forked a bunch of eggs into his mouth.

"Did-did they say what happened," Harry asked breathlessly, swallowing his guilt and a little saliva when the memory of what exactly did happen rushed through him. He took a bite of his own eggs, suddenly ravenous.

"Nah," Seamus muttered distractedly. "Wish I coulda seen it though."

"Someone said the Slytherins heard screams, they found him in the corridor, bleeding," Hermione said absently, her attention tucked away in a large book with no discernible title.

“Well,” Harry muttered when no one seemed intent on finishing the conversation, staring around at his closest housemates as they ate and talked and studied, all not giving a toss about the health and whereabouts of Draco Malfoy.

“Well what,” Hermione asked, picking up a piece of toast and giving him a bit of her attention.

“Do they know if he's alright,” Harry asked her quietly, glancing around quickly at everyone else's distraction.

“No one's said,” she answered, somewhat more indifferently than he would have ever expected from Hermione.

He nodded, losing interest in his breakfast, absently pushing the scraps around his plate until Hermione gathered her things and gestured for him to follow.

"How are you feeling, Harry," Hermione asked when the heavy doors of the Great Hall had closed behind them. "You look better than you have in a long time."

"Well, I'm actually, I'm feeling better than I have," Harry admitted, hitching his bag a little higher on his shoulder. "Maybe it was just a bug?"

"Maybe," she agreed, surprisingly reluctant for someone who had been fobbing off his various complaints as stress related.

Harry smiled to cover his vague irritation. She hadn't wanted to consider it before and he didn't want to talk about it now.

"Have you really not heard anything else about Malfoy," he asked, trying for his own version of nonchalance.

"If you're that worried about him, Harry, maybe you should stop in and check. I'm sure he would appreciate the show of concern."

"No, I couldn't," he answered hastily. He could, he wanted to. Shockingly enough he felt like he needed to. "I'd just get in the way," he added, blushing as his thoughts circled the feeling behind that strange need.

"I'm sure it would be fine," Hermione soothed. "After all, you haven't had any fights or confrontations all term."

"No, no fights," Harry agreed carefully.

 

"Mister Potter," Pomfrey spoke as soon as Harry slipped through the hospital doors, straightening from where she seemed to be mixing un-mixable ingredients.

Harry stared at the strange smoke rising from the phials even as she raked a critical eye over him.

"Oh, I'm fine," he said when she cleared her throat, smiling sheepishly. "I just heard that Malfoy, I wanted to see if he was okay."

Her face softened, almost smiling at him as she stepped around her cart. "He's fine, Mister Potter. Sleeping off a rather strong dose of Blood Replenishing Potion. I shall relay your concern when he wakes."

"Did he say-do you know what happened to him," Harry asked before she could send him away, stepping closer to both her and a curtained off bed that no doubt housed Malfoy.

She tilted her head, observing him silently for a long moment. "He was attacked," she began deliberately, stepping between Harry and the bed. "He didn't say how or why."

Harry nodded, taking a step back as she meant for him to. "When he wakes, will you ask if it's alright for me to visit? I just want to make sure..."

"Of course, Mister Potter," she answered, dismissing him with a turn of her head.

 

"What do you mean he said no," Harry asked, more than a little panicked at Malfoy's refusal to see him.

"I'm sorry, Harry, he has requested that only his friends visit him and I'm afraid the entirety of our world knows you have never been friendly."

Her words were sympathetic even though Harry couldn't begin to explain why he felt so crushed by them.

"You're right," he agreed softly. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

 

"Malfoy," Harry whispered loudly, stepping quickly and quietly toward that sectioned off bed. The ward was absolutely silent and dark but for the few candles burning along the walls. Harry could see perfectly.

It was unnaturally warm within the curtains of Malfoy's bed. Harry hoped that was purposeful and not something potentially harmful for the recovering boy. He wondered if the blood loss still left him cold.

"Draco," he whispered again, stepping close enough to reach out and touch the other boy if he wanted to.

This close, he couldn't resist. Harry clasped Malfoy's hand carefully, worrying over how chilly his fingers were. 

Malfoy's hand twitched, tightening around Harry's fingers. Harry squeezed back, stepping up to the head of the bed.

"Malfoy," he asked again, leaning down to brush the hair out of the other boy's eyes.

"Don't," Malfoy breathed, tensing but not moving very far from Harry.

"Are you okay," Harry asked gently.

"Wh-what happened," Malfoy answered, his voice rough with sleep and lingering discomfort. Harry remembered third year with Buckbeak and had to wonder how much of that had been faked.

Harry debated with himself over how much to reveal, hating what he had done to Malfoy and disgusted by the fact that no one knew or seemed willing to trace it back to him. "You were attacked. Down in the dungeons, no one else knows why or by who."

"Pomfrey said," Malfoy agreed, finally opening his eyes to meet Harry's, his flinch visible, his pupils dilating. "Why are you here?"

"Because I, I saw what happened," Harry whispered, darting a quick look over his shoulder. "But no one would believe me if I tried to tell them. Hermione keeps saying I'm suffering from stress and Ron is suddenly oblivious and everyone is so worried about me that they can't see what's wrong."

"What's wrong," Malfoy asked when Harry finally stopped talking.

"Me," Harry confided in a broken whisper. "I'm all wrong and no one notices and now I've... I'm sorry, Draco. I don't know how this happened."

"What did you do, Potter," Malfoy asked slowly, his eyes tracking Harry's every movement, watching him carefully.

"I-I think I might be evil," Harry breathed even softer, unable to meet the other boy's eyes. "I might have killed you."

"You," Malfoy snorted, dragging his hand out of Harry's to push his fringe out of his eyes. "You're about as evil as a crup. I had Him living in my house and survived. You're nothing."

Harry winced, stomach clenching. -Nothing-. "You don't understand, there's something wrong with me..."

"Your ego, it sounds like," Malfoy muttered.

"I nearly killed you," Harry shouted, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I had my teeth in your throat and my hand on your dick."

Malfoy choked, eyes wide and mouth moving soundlessly.

Harry faltered, his own eyes frantic as he met Malfoy's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out, not like that. Are you alright, should I get Pomfrey?" He reached out, wanting to touch the other boy, offer comfort through touch, but Malfoy jerked away, ending up nearly off the edge of the bed to escape Harry's reach. "It's okay," Harry promised, stepping away from the bed to give him more room. "I'm not here for that, to hurt you, I wanted to check on you."

"Why did you do it," Malfoy asked softly, his gaze moving to and resting on the bed beside him. "I remember," he shook his head, tensing and shifting. "It felt..."

"I'm sorry," Harry answered again.

Malfoy flushed, his hands gripping his blankets. "It's fine," he snapped. "After all, it's not every day one gets attacked and molested by a natural-born vampire."

"What," Harry demanded incredulously, something twigging in the back of his mind.

"Get out," Malfoy said simply, turning away and laying down again.

 

"It's only for a little while," Hermione tried. "Only until they make certain--you're not taking a medication you're allergic to, are you?"

"Of course I am, Hermione," Harry said, tired of answering the same question rephrased again and again. "I love feeling like my skin is stretched so tight over my bones I'm likely to break or puncture something vital and bleed to death before anyone notices." Harry shivered, the thought of blood turning his stomach and making his throat tingle.

"We're just worried, Harry," Hermione huffed. "None of this makes any sense."

"When has it ever," Harry asked, nudging her with his shoulder, grinning unrepentantly until she smiled too.

"It's only for a little while," she repeated softly, trying to reassure them both.

 

"What do you know about vampires," Harry asked Hermione a few days later, sitting down beside her on the couch.

Hermione burst out laughing, shaking her head at him. "Oh, Harry, sorry, you just seemed so serious. It was like a horror film."

"I am serious. What do you know that's real?"

"Well...there's really not a lot. We studied how to repel them in DADA, they have to register with the Ministry like those infected with Lycanthropy. There's not much about day-to-day activities and behaviours, but I'm sure I could find something. Why," she finally thought to ask, looking at him curiously.

"What about 'natural-born' vampires," Harry asked cautiously, staring down at his hands.

"I'm not sure there's any such thing."

"Will you check?"

 

"What are they, that thing you called me," Harry demanded, pulling a chair up close to the left of Malfoy's bed and sitting. "Hermione couldn't find anything about them anywhere."

"Of course not, Potter," Malfoy drawled, stirring the completely unappetizing remains of his soup around. "They went to great lengths to hide it all."

Harry nodded, well acquainted with the idea and it's basic flaws. How could you fight something if you didn't know what it was. "What are they," Harry asked a little breathlessly. "Are they, am I evil?"

“Of course,” Malfoy answered promptly, pushing his tray away and twisting his fingers in the blankets by his side. “No,” he whispered, glancing away from Harry's crestfallen expression. “I wish I could say you were. Considering what you did to me. But no, vampires, and those that are born especially, are not inherently evil.”

“How do you know,” Harry asked softly, sliding to the edge of his seat, silently demanding the truth from someone who had never felt the need to give it.

“I read,” Malfoy replied tensely, staring at the hand Harry had been edging along the bed toward him.

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered, drawing back self-consciously. “I don't know what-”

“It's alright, I'm strangely not bothered by your vampiric behaviours,” Malfoy said softly, reaching out for Harry's hand. “Have you ever bitten anyone before?”

“Of course not,” Harry denied sharply, flinching at the implication. “And after what it did to you...”

“It's the magic as much as the blood,” Malfoy answered the undeclared question. “That's why I'm still here. Blood is easy to replenish, the magic you took though, that takes time.” His fingers gripped Harry's tightly, his eyes hard. “Are you hungry?”

Harry jerked away, upsetting his chair and nearly toppling over. “No!” he shouted, staring at Malfoy like he was the very end of the world.

Malfoy extended his left arm, bared to the elbow. “Better you take from the knowing than another unsuspecting victim.”

Harry eyed the curves of the Dark Mark in disgust, old and familiar anger swelling in his gut. “What are you—I _don't_ want to see it,” he hissed, unable to take his eyes away as the Mark seemed to writhe.

“Better you take from me, before you lose control of it again,” Malfoy insisted, pushing himself closer to the edge of the bed. “Take it,” he demanded, his heart pounding loudly in Harry's ears.

“I don't want to,” Harry sputtered, staring at the spidering of very blue veins under Malfoy's skin. It was really very lovely skin, those veins the colour of the summer sky. Harry knew Malfoy didn't taste anything like summer but he remembered when Malfoy smelled like summer. Quidditch sweat and leather and pure sunshine, Harry loved that smell. He'd loved the way Malfoy tasted.

Malfoy slumped back against the bed, watching silently while Harry deliberated and lost to his new self.

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered, stepping back to Malfoy's bedside.

“It's alright,” Malfoy answered as Harry's fingers traced over his pale skin. “Will you, will you lay with me during,” he asked softly, blinking up at Harry nervously.

Harry faltered, his fingers gripping Malfoy's forearm too tightly. “Do you really want me to?”

“Well, I just—if you don't want to,” Malfoy demurred, turning his face away though he didn't try to twist out of Harry's grip.

“No, no, I will,” Harry answered that disappointment quickly. “How do you want me,” he asked, glancing over Malfoy's bed dubiously.

Malfoy flushed, pushing himself back toward the other side of the bed awkwardly. “Can you? Like this,” he gestured down beside himself.

Harry smiled despite himself, slipping into the bed, into Malfoy's arms. He was cocooned in Malfoy's scent, the eyes of the Mark daring him. “I'm sorry,” he whispered again, pressing the points of his teeth into those eyes.

 

“Why me,” Harry asked when Malfoy finally stirred against him.

“Him,” Malfoy breathed, shifting closer, pulling Harry tighter into his arms. “Always Him. But it's okay,” he promised.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, not quite believing it but willing if Malfoy wanted him to.

**Author's Note:**

> [Crossposted](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/206942.html) to hp_creatures


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